э There has not been a sound to-day Of waving bough, or warbling bird, I could have half believed I heard Small drops, but thick and fast they fell, For leafy thickness is not yet Earth's naked breast to skreen, Sure, since I looked at early morn, Have swelled to double growth; that thorn Hath put forth larger studs; That lilac's cleaving cones have burst, The milk-white flowers revealing; Even now, upon my senses first Methinks their sweets are stealing: The very earth, the steamy air, And grace and beauty ev'ry where Are flushing into life. Down, down they come-those fruitful stores! Those earth-rejoicing drops! A momentary deluge pours, Then thins, decreases, stops. And, ere the dimples on the stream Have circled out of sight, Lo! from the west, a parting gleam * * But yet behold-abrupt and loud, Want of space forbids us from pursuing the details of the picture the effects of the sudden sunshine on the birds-the passing of a train of cows from the pasture and, lastly, of a flock of sheep, which K The shepherd saunters last-but why It was a new-born thing-the rain Poured down all night-its bed Was drenched and cold. Morn came again, Yet the poor mother's fond distress To shield, with sleepless tenderness, Round it all night she gathered, warm, It lay before her, stiff and cold; Yet fondly she essayed To cherish it in love's warm fold, And low complaining bleat, To entice from their damp resting-place Those little stiff'ning feet. All would not do, when all was tried Love's last fond lure was vain; So quietly by its dead side She laid her down again. The process of vegetation is general and rapid in this month. The blackthorn or sloe (prunus spinosa) puts forth its elegant flowers; a host of others follow, among which may be named the ash (fraxinus excelsior), ground-ivy (glecoma hederacea), and the box-tree (buxus sempervirens). The apricot, the peach, nectarine, the wild and garden cherry, and the plum (all of which contain a portion of prussic acid, or the peculiar principle of almonds); gooseberry and currant trees, the hawthorn (cratogus oxycantha), and the sycamore (acer pseudo-platanus), are now in flower. The blossoms of the apple and pear present to the eye a most agreeable spectacle, particularly in those counties which abound with orchards. The beech (fagus sylvatica) and the larch (pinuslarix rubra) are now in full leaf. The larch, also, exhibits its red tufts or flowers, which soon expand into cones, and the fir tribe show their cones also. That magnificent and beautiful tree, the horse-chesnut (hippocastanum), now displays its honours of fine green leaves and its handsome spikes pyramidal ' of white and red flowers: it is quite the glory of forest trees. The laurel is in flower; and that universal favourite, the violet, is still seen and loved, for its own and for remembrance sake. To the YELLow Violet. By an American Poet. When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue-bird's warble know, The yellow violet's modest bell Peeps from the last year's leaves below. Ere russet fields their green resume, Of all her train, the hands of Spring And I have seen thee blossoming Beside the snow-bank's edges cold. Thy parent Sun, who bade thee view When loftier flow'rs are flaunting nigh. Thy early smile has stayed my walk ; That I should ape the ways of pride. Awakes the painted tribes of light, That made the woods of April bright. Many and lovely are the flowers which are showered, in profusion, from the lap of April: among them may be named the jonquil, anemoné, ranunculus, polyanthus, and the crown imperial. The double white, the yellow, and some others of the earlier tulips, are fully opened in this month; but the more illustrious varieties will not blow for some weeks. This tribe is the gayest offspring of floriculture. Other flowers which adorn our fields, at this time, are the checquered daffodil (fritillaria meleagris), the primrose', the cowslip (primula veris), the lady-smock And now the primrose finely strews the path, W. BROWNE. 2. When I awoke in the morning, I went up to the window: the first thing I saw was the church; I remembered that my mother's body had been lying out all night, and ran as fast as I could to the churchyard. The dark pit was not to be seen, nor could I find where it had been for some time. On the spot was a sort of mound raised up, like many others in the churchyard, coved with fresh turf, and bound together with osiers. One little cowslip was growing up among the grass; the soft pale green stem of this flower was no longer than a long blade of grass; but I was quite glad to see it, (cardamine pratensis), and the harebell (hyacinthus non scriptus). The HAREBELL. With drooping bells of clearest blue, The azure butterflies that flew Where on the heath thy blossoms grew, Where feathery fern and golden broom 'Mid tufts of purple heather bloom 'Mid ruins tumbling to decay, Thy flowers their heavenly hues display, When glow-worm lamps illume the scene, But most I love thine azure braid, Stealing beneath the hedgerow shade, Thou art the flower of memory; and every morning I went to look if the little buds were blown, and, when the weather was very dry, I always watered it. After it left off blowing, I never forgot it; but loved its little crimped half-hidden leaves better than all the brightest summer flowers,: now there are more than thirty cowslips on my mother's grave. A cowslip was her favourite flower.'-May you Like It, 12mo. 1822. · |